A Different View
by code051113
Summary: What if they weren't a duo, but a trio? Throw a childhood friend of Sherlock's into the works, and get a different dynamic. Adelaide Sharpe, Countess of Stratham, is a determined woman who has known Sherlock Holmes since she was a teenager. When John comes along, what will happen then? A different view on the story we all know and love. Credit to BBC, and ACD.
1. July 1998

The first time she met him, Adelaide was seventeen years old, and on the arm of his brother Mycroft. He was twenty-three, had a prematurely receding hairline and was a fierce gentleman. However, Adelaide was fully aware that their relationship was only functional in so much that both their images profited, despite the age gap. If there were one person who could give Mycroft Holmes for his money, it was the woman he was escorting to his mother's annual summer Luncheon.

"I am aware that you have never been to one of our parties, my Lady," Mycroft charmingly uttered, and rested his admittedly pleasant on her own, that was folded in the crook of his elbow.

Adelaide smiled as prettily as she dared, and noticed her companion's shocked blink. "You presume correct, Master Holmes. And what a tragedy such a situation was, until now at least."

Mycroft hummed in apparent agreement, and they gracefully descended the stone steps of the Holmes' country manor house onto the lush grass below. Adelaide immediately wished she had chosen more substantial heels than the nude court shoes she was currently wearing.

Smiling graciously at the polite nods shown her way, Mycroft led her around the garden, the glorious sunshine making the champagne and fresh strawberries all the more palatable, and introduced her to their fellow aristocracy.

Just as they entered a conversation with a middle-aged, ginger fellow that Mycroft happenstanced to make, she heard a delighted squeal from behind her, but recognised it as her younger sister Evelyn's. _Undoubtedly making making herself a nuisance with the waiting staff. _Where Adelaide had inherited her mother's outward elegance, Evie seemed to possess an admirable curiosity.

Continuing to concentrate upon Lord Hatherby, whose precariously sozzled state was causing Mycroft slight embarrassment, Adelaide felt slightly happier as the infallible gentleman's reddening cheeks.

Leaning over to her whilst Hatherby prattled absently on, Mycroft whispered, "I do apologise, my Lady."

"Mycroft, you have no need to call me 'my Lady', how many more times?", she somewhat flirted, and laughed slightly into his ear. _Why have a plate when you can have the whole feast._

"And besides," she continued whispering, in an inconspicuous manner, "you did promise me entertainment."

Mycroft Holmes drew back, slightly scandalised but with an amused light in his eyes, and Adelaide congratulated herself silently, until her name was heard and she return to the present.

"I am so sorry about your mother, my dear Lady Sharpe," Hatherby slurred, his portly stomach trembling with emotion. He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped the top of his balding head. "Such a terrible accident, I must say."

"Yes," Adelaide hesistantly replied, "terrible indeed. I thank you for your condolences. She will be terribly missed in the Sharpe household, I am sure."_ I'm so sorry Mama, but what else can I possibly say?_

But Hatherby didn't seem to want to let the topic lie. "And your father, we haven't seen much of his face at the club! And that is a strange occurrence, considering his penchant for a flutter, if you don't mind my saying so..."

Mycroft squeezed her arm in what she took to be sympathy- though from their steady companionship of three months, she knew that Mycroft Holmes never _did_ sympathy- and she thought on her reply before answering guardedly.

"My father is... somewhat indisposed at present, Lord Hatherby. With the passing of my mother, how can any man blame him?"

Hatherby immediately flushed upon realising his mistake, and Mycroft chuckled loud enough that only Adelaide could hear. _Glad to see we are both playing this game._

"I didn't mean to ca-"

"Of course you didn't, Frederick," came a low yet young voice from over Adelaide's left shoulder, "how could you cause any offence to the Lady Adelaide when all you did was highlight the Earl's gambling habits?"

Adelaide and Mycroft both turned to confront the speaker; Mycroft more reluctantly than herself. He sighed.

"Adelaide, my dear, may I introduce you to my younger brother, Master Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, you find yourself in the company of the illustrious Lady Adelaide Sharpe," he warned, and to break the tension, I raised my hand. _Not that I expect you to kiss it, Mas-_

Sherlock immediately surprised her by lowering his shock of black, wild curls to her hand, and she felt a slight pressure where his lips made contact with her skin. _A outward gentleman, but a scoundrel within. Much like his brother, _Adelaide thought.

She was under no qualms that Mycroft felt nothing but respect for her, and treated her habitually with such indifference. It seemed that today, under the scrutiny of the infamous Mrs Holmes, he adapted his ways.

Further showing this by placing his right arm around her waist, Adelaide started, and Sherlock dropped her hand. She cleared her throat.

"May I ask, Master Holmes, how you came to know of my father's pasttimes?" she cuttingly asked, ever polite and ladylike. She sensed movement behind her, knowing that Lord Hatherby had cautiously retreated.

A flurry of pink caught her eye over the tall, younger Holmes' shoulder. Evie was currently chasing a cat, and a maid was chasing her.

Mycroft spotted this, and made his apologies. He headed over to the trio to rectify the situation. Adelaide wished she cared, but was primarily concentrated on Sherlock admission of a knowledge she and her mother had spent years jealously guarding, lest it cause them difficulty and isolation for Evelyn.

"Wasn't very difficult to deduce, Adelaide," Sherlock replied in a tone of ennui, and before she could call out his familiar tone, he continued.

"You only look to your sister when you fear she is up to mischief- either a need to protect her that you evidently feel, considering you practically brought her up yourself, or a need to keep her from embarrassing you. Probably the latter- she screamed a moment ago and instead of investigating to check her welfare you continued to lord on the arm of my brother. You obviously decided she was fine, and that your social standing was more important.

"But why the need for this? Your mother died recently, which is only highlighted by the state of your dress and shoes. Staff of calibre left your household and only the younger kitchen maids remained. Your dress is neat and prim but there are slightly lines around the seams where they have been ironed improperly. Your shoes have been worn before because there are slight marks on the heel. Probably where they have caught on steps, stone steps. Can't been our own; the marks are made of red brick and ours are grey. If there were dedicated staff, they would have cleaned or replaced them.

"But why have the staff left? There must be little money and little loyalty to the remaining family since your mother died- but why? Deduction: your father is a serial gambler and frequents the cities' casinos regularly, hence his absence today and your need to keep up appearances, and use the Countess's death as an excuse. You have little attachment to Evie, even though you are close; obviously you see her as the blame for something. Possibly she was an unplanned child and a nuisance, causing the evident abusive relationship your father inflicted upon you and your mother. An accident, falling down the stairs? _Please,_ your father had his hand in it, and you still have bruises around your wrists. It's too hot to cover them with gloves, hence your hiding them in my brother's elbow.

"Conclusion? Your mother was murdered, your father is a gambler and you want to escape your home as soon as possible, probably the army or secret service. I'd encourage the latter- your skills in languages are fairly renowned and I hear you are quite the marksman yourself. Now, my Lady, if you'll excuse me, I have a chapter of my book on Russian Forensic History to finish. I daresay you won't see me again this evening, but thank you for being an interesting study."

And with a flurry of his jacket, blue eyes and dark hair, Sherlock Holmes bowed slightly to Adelaide, turned and jauntily strode up the steps towards the French doors of his home.

Once again, Adelaide sensed a more ominous presence, and whipped around to confront the return of Mycroft Holmes. His cheeks were flushed and he was panting slightly, but seemed triumphant at the blonde toddler currently sulking as she perched on his hip. Evie looked at Adelaide and immediately reached for her.

Taking her somewhat reluctantly, Adelaide couldn't help but feel proud and strangely euphoric as Evie's hands instantly clutched at her, and cuddled her hip.

Mycroft smiled at Adelaide, in quite a cold manner she remarked, as he asked, "My brother is, you could say, tempestuous. I trust he did not cause you too much trouble? He is barely older than you and less than half as reserved."

Adelaide smiled at the ground, and replied, "Not at all. He was quite extraordinary."

Unbeknownst to her, said brother peered out of his window, clutching his aforementioned book, and spotted immediately the Lady Adelaide on the glass below. His windows were open, and even though the hubble of chatter from other guests were audible, they were dispersed on the lawn and quieter than they appeared below.

But he heard Adelaide's words, and felt dirtied by them. Such a person had never admitted a reaction such as hers before- they were usually filled with hurt and disgust, and replied with remarks of 'freak' and 'nosy bastard'.

_Quite extraordinary, _she had said.

Quite extraordinary.


	2. August 1998

A week had passed since the Luncheon, and Mycroft had returned to university the previous day, with a forced kiss to Adelaide's cheek and not so much more as a by-your-leave. Not that Adelaide minded much, but with a month until she herself deigned to return to her last mandatory year of education, the boredom crept in like a cold drought to the bones.

Sighing, she rose herself out of bed- a sickening four poster affair that was swamped by her green and gold-brocade room- and went to the window to overlook the lake. The grounds of the Stratham's immediate estate looked drab and dreary for an August day, but Adelaide wasn't the least bit surprised. _God love the British summer._

She donned her robe, and opened the oak door to the corridor. Walking a ways down the passage, passing a few of the least-favoured portraits, she reached the stairs. A maid, Betty, was waiting at the bottom.

"Good morning milady," she said politely, and curtseyed slightly. Adelaide smiled distractedly.

"And to you, Betty. Any news?"

Betty ducked her head. "The Lady Evelyn is colouring in the drawing room, milady. Now that you have awoken, we will serve breakfast."

"You and I both know that is not what I quite meant, Betty," Adelaide replied quietly as they passed said drawing room. "Is the Earl here?"

Hesitating, the maid deliberated over her answer. "The Earl Sharpe is... indisposed, milady."

_Hardly surprising,_ Adelaide remarked inwardly. She sighed slightly, and then drew herself up. "Very good, Betty. Please inform cook that Evie and I will be in the breakfast room in fifteen minutes."

"Very good milady," the maid curtseyed again, and hurried towards the rear corridor that ran down to the kitchen.

Adelaide opened the drawing room door, and immediately spotted her nine-year-old sister curled up in front of the fireplace, aimlessly colouring a picture of a cat that she'd evidently drawn herself. Adelaide took a moment before sitting down beside her. Evie paid no mind, and instead continued on her task.

"Hey, Evie," Adelaide greeted softly, all formal pretenses gone. As much as anyone would think, Adelaide adored Evelyn, yet feared so much that she would turn out like their father as much as Adelaide had. She hoped that she was more like their mother, but even that hurt.

"Hello," she replied sullenly, and yet did not look up from her drawing still. "When's breakfast?" She immediately asked.

"In a few minutes," Adelaide chuckled. "Hungry?"

Evie looked up pitifully. "Very."

"Come on then," Adelaide said, standing gracefully, and holding out her hand to her, which was accepted. "Let's go wait for Cook in the breakfast room."

They exited and walked the few metres back towards the front doors, to pass into the breakfast room- the one habitually used for meals, especially when the Earl was still holed up in his Wing, or when he wasn't in Stratham at all. Evie clambered up onto the chair to the right of Adelaide, who sat at the head. Whilst the elder Sharpe sister delicately rested her elbows as not to disturb the cutlery, Evie paid it no mind.

"Addy?" Evie started.

Adelaide sighed at the nickname- she detested them as a rule, and only Evelyn was allowed to call her such. "Yes, sweetpea?"

"Why don't I have hair like yours or Papa's?"

Adelaide took a moment to examine the hair that she had swept over her shoulder. It was a deep auburn colour, that was long and slightly curled, and reached just under her breast. Evelyn had inherited their mother's- a bright, platinum blonde that she had inherited from their Russian grandmother.

"Because it's something we can't decide. I got Father's hair, you got Mama's." Evie pouted.

"But I want to look like you," Evie replied, sulking at her spoon. "I can't remember what Mama looked like... is that bad?"

Adelaide's breath caught in her throat. "No, darling, it's not at all. Sometimes, when we know someone and love someone for a long time, we forget what actual features they have. It's not bad, just... not... _good." _Adelaide failed to articulate the lump that was now firmly lodged in her chest.

"Like you and Mister M-Mycroft?"

Adelaide nearly laughed at her sister's innocence. "Yes, you could say that."

"But you know what Mister M-Mycroft looks like? Do you not love him?"

_How can I explain this to a child? _"I love Mycroft in... a certain way. Not like we loved Mama, Evie. Not like that."

Evie scrunched up her eyebrows. "Like Mama and Papa loved each other?"

Adelaide nearly cried at the naivety only a child could possess. _And yet I'm still supposed to be a child myself. _"Yes, sweet girl. A bit like that."

Evie nodded as if she understood, and Adelaide knew that she'd explain it to her one day. However, her younger sister's mind, for all it's curiosity, was easily distracted, and the questions came barreling in in one breath.

"Are you going to train with Master Jeremy today? Can I watch? Can I hold the gun like you do? I know ladies aren't supposed to do that, but you're a lady and I think it's looks just fantastic. So can I?"

Adelaide positively laughed. Once she calmed, she replied, "First thing's first; a gun is not a gun if it's not on a...?"

"... A tank or a ship," Evie replied sullenly. "A 'gun' is a firearm."

"Correct, and what do I say about using firearms?"

Evie sighed petulantly. "That I'm not allowed to use one until I'm older, but-"

"But nothing, Evelyn. I have told you, you are too young. It is dangerous, and you could get hurt. I can't let that happen."

"But Mama said you were my age when you starting training!"

Adelaide nearly laughed again. _She cannot remember what our mother looks like, but remembers that quote. Typical. _

"I've said all I will say on the matter, Evie. My answer is no."

Before Evie could protest, the butler Mr Franks knocked on the door. A man of stoutness, middle age and no less efficiency, bowed at the entrance.

"Milady Adelaide, you have a visitor."

Adelaide furrowed her eyebrows. "At this time of the morning?"

Mr Franks nodded. "It would appear so, milady. If you are to speak with him, I will show him into the main lounge."

_Wait, 'him'? _"Did he give any name at the door, Mr Franks?" Adelaide asked, in confusion. Evie was gaping at their butler also.

"He did, milady. A Master '_Sherlock Holme_s'?"

Adelaide started. The Holmes house was quite a ways from Stratham Manor, and she wondered on what grounds he could possibly have thought he'd be entertained here.

Taking a deep breath, she replied, "Very well. Tell him I will be with him in ten minutes whilst I make myself look presentable. Please continue to serve Evelyn breakfast, I doubt this meeting will take long."

"Milady," Mr Franks bowed, and left the breakfast room. Adelaide quickly followed suit, and exited the room to climb the stairs. Betty came running down the corridor below, and asked if she required any assistance. After waving her off hurriedly, Adelaide strode to her bedroom to don a simple summer dress and blazer- a slate grey one to bring out the silver of her eyes- a pair of simple flat shoes, and quickly brushed her hair.

Upon returning downstairs, she relaxed her surprising tense muscles before entering her lounge. The dark-haired boy was at the far window, overlooking the same view she gazed at this morning. She closed the door behind herself, and made an announcement of her arrival.

"Master Holmes, what an expected pleasure."


End file.
